It is 3:00AM here in the Midwest and I’m wondering why I don’t write very often anymore. I’ve been wondering this for about a week actually. Evelyn reminded me that I used to have a romantic notion about my blog. Children of mine would read it and know their history and what a funny goof their mama was while she was trying for them and how much they were loved and wanted even before they were conceived. And eventually I hoped it would become a chronicle of new motherhood, school days etc. The hope in that blog sometimes makes me cry.
What is the point of recording a life which will leave no loved and doted on progeny behind to remember or care?
I used to ask myself before I wrote in that blog, “What is it I really want to remember from this day a year from now? Ten years from now?” I haven’t asked myself that in a long time.
I’ve used this blog for nothing but spewing negativity. And for now, I’ve pretty much given up planning a future which includes my own children who would read it.
But when I think about things that make me feel good, writing is one of them. I need and want to bring it back into my life and try to bring some positive things here.
Who’s kidding who? There will still be plenty of negative spewage here.
But with or without children, I probably have many years ahead of me, provided of course that I do not spontaneously combust one of these old nights. I don’t want to spend all those years in a negative thought/writing cycle.
Middle of the night ramblings of a childless mother.